| D. H. Lawrence – Bavarian Gentians Not every man has gentians in his house in soft September, at slow, sad Michaelmas. Bavarian gentians, big and dark, only dark darkening the daytime, torch-like, with the smoking blueness of Pluto’s gloom, ribbed and torch-like, with their blaze of darkness spread blue down flattening into points, flattened under the sweep of white day torch-flower of the blue-smoking darkness, Pluto’s dark-blue daze, black lamps from the halls of Dis, burning dark blue, giving off darkness, blue darkness, as Demeter’s pale lamps give off light, lead me then, lead the way. Reach me a gentian, give me a torch! let me guide myself with the blue, forked torch of this flower down the darker and darker stairs, where blue is darkened on blueness even where Persephone goes, just now, from the frosted September to the sightless realm where darkness is awake upon the dark and Persephone herself is but a voice or a darkness invisible enfolded in the deeper dark of the arms Plutonic, and pierced with the passion of dense gloom, among the splendor of torches of darkness, shedding darkness on the lost bride and her groom. | Gianina Casleanu – Gentiene bavareze Nu orisicine are in casa in moale zi si trista de septembrie, de Sfantul Mihail, Gentiene bavareze, nervurate, mari si intunecate, ce cu al lor intuneric lumina zilei o innegureaza, ca niste torte, de un albastru fumuriu ca-ntunericul lui Pluto, Imprastiind lumina albastra in intuneric, cu varfuri ascutite, si cuibarite sub lumina calda a zilei, Ca niste torte ce razbat prin al lui Pluto intuneric albastru si naucitor Sa imi ghideze pasii, lumina albastra din negre felinare ce lumineaza ale Iadului culoare si raspandeste albastru intuneric, cum palidele felinare ale Demetrei raspandesc lumina, Da-mi o gentiana, da-mi o torta albastra Sa- mi calauzeasca drumul spre-ntuneric, in timp ce cobor albastre trepte, Pe unde tocmai trecura-ai Persefonei pasi, dintr-un septembrie-nghetat, Spre taramul peste care stapaneste intunericul cel orb Si unde Persefona nu-i decat o voce Ori intuneric invizibil cuprins in marele si-adancul intuneric Ale plutonicelor brate, patruns de pasiunea umbrei dese Si ale intunericului torte cu a lor splendoare, care revarsa intuneric Peste mireasa ratacita si al ei mire. |
TRANSLATION CAFÉ 2008, Nr. 23/January 15, 2008, Anny Ballardini, Translations from: Anny Ballardini – Someone else by Gabriela Moldovan – Altcineva
Anny Ballardini - Someone elseI woke up this morningand they had stolen my carmy house my bed my eyesmy mind my family my fatemy job my friendsleft there on the scorching groundI went downtown and got a plastic hearta couple of colored marbles for my...